Dead Ball (Blood Bowl Book 2) by Matt Forbeck

Author:Matt Forbeck [Forbeck, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2015-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

The kick-off for the Hackers’ next game went just as badly as the first – at least from Dunk’s point of view.

‘Cracking!’ Mon Jotson’s voice said over the PA system. ‘Over the past week, fans, I’ve done some research on the new darlings of our little ball. The Far Albion Cup has been kind to the Hackers so far. Their Casualties Inflicted per Game has skyrocketed since they arrived in fair Albion. If that last play is any indication, they’re on their way to bumping up their numbers once again!

‘I see one, two, three – oh who can count them all? Some of them are in parts! There are at least five bodies in Mancaster Knighted uniforms scattered across the field. ‘

The news made Dunk feel sick. ‘How many did we lose?’ he asked.

‘One of Deckem’s men lost a leg,’ Slick said. ‘But he seems to be doing fine.’

Dunk followed the halfling’s gaze over to where the team apothecary – a wizened old, woman with a swing-down monocle attached to a black band around her head – sat stitching Swift’s leg back on at the knee. Even with it barely attached, the Hacker could still move the foot that had just been separated from him.

‘Who are these guys?’ Dunk asked. ‘Could you learn anything about them?’

Slick shook his head. ‘The whole country knows Deckem, but the rest of his contingent is a real mystery. Despite the fact they play great ball, no one’s ever heard of them before.’

Dunk spotted Lästiges standing in the corner of the Hacker’s dugout, behind Slick. He hadn’t seen her since the morning she’d raced from her bed, almost a week ago. For his part, that had been fine. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but skating that close to the edge had upset him. If he hadn’t seen anything of the reporter until the trip back to the Old World – or even later than that – he would not have minded.

She nodded at him tentatively, her usual aggressive bravado put aside, at least for the moment. He knew he should go over and talk to her, clear the air between them, but now wasn’t the right time.

‘How much longer do we have to put up with them?’ Dunk asked.

‘As long as we keep winning games, Mr. Hoffnung,’ Pegleg said, slapping his starting thrower on the back. Dunk had never seen the ex-pirate happier.

‘Coach,’ Dunk said. ‘Some of us are worried about our new team-mates. They’re a little – well, violent.’ As the words spilled out of Dunk’s mouth, he regretted them. They sounded feeble even to his ears.

Pegleg laughed. ‘It’s a violent game,’ he said. ‘People die. Or don’t you remember our last match in Magritta?’

Dunk nodded. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.

‘It’s a kill or be killed game, Dunk.’ Pegleg’s manner had turned softer now. ‘If you’re going to play, it’s best to be on the side of the killers.’

‘But it doesn’t have to be that way,’ Dunk said. ‘We could just play the game – outscore the other team.

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